


The Drop

by Medeafic



Series: Captain Spanky Series [12]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Angst, Barebacking, Blood, Cutting, Knifeplay, M/M, Mentions of physical altercations, Scratching, hard biting, injuries, vague D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-07
Updated: 2011-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:58:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens to Chris and Zach for the next four days after their scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Drop

The next morning, they stay in bed but check their faces in Zach’s shaving mirror.  The scratches Chris left in Zach’s skin look as raw under the band-aids as they did the previous night.  One of them goes dangerously near his eye.  And his cheekbone is blooming with a blue and purple shadow.

“Jesus!”  Chris whistles through his teeth.  He touches Zach’s face gently.  “Wow, I really got you.  Sorry, man.”  Chris himself only has a graze and a faint bruise over his cheekbone, and a split lip, as far as a glance in the mirror told him.  His shoulder is aching where Zach bit him, though.

“Don’t apologize,” Zach smiles, moving his face away from Chris’s fingers.  “Just get a manicure for next time, okay?”  His smile falters a little after he speaks, his words hanging in the air between them.  _Next time_.

“I will,” Chris promises.  “I hope there won’t be any scarring.  Fuck.  Sorry.”

“I’ve had worse,” Zach shrugs.  “And at least you didn’t break my nose.  Stop freaking.  Bask in the morning-after glow of good night-before sex.  We don’t have long before we have to get up.”

“It’s just,” Chris says.  “I should have – I should have kept it in check.  I’m sor –”

“Seriously, Pine,” Zach says with a heavy sigh of annoyance.  “I’m a big boy and I can take it.  We had a special dispensation, remember?  And _I’m_ not going to apologize.  Not yet, anyway.”  He throws an arm over Chris, nuzzling his face down into his neck.  “Besides, I like it when you fight back,” he says, his breath hot on Chris’s skin.

“Wait, why do we have to get up?” Chris asks.

“Doctor’s appointment.  For you.”

“Um.  Are _you_ the doctor in this scenario?”

“No,” Zach snorts.  “But...we could try that some time if you’re into it.”

“So, what doctor?” Chris insists.

“ _The_ doctor.  The medical practitioner to whom I am taking you for a check up.”

“Why do I need a doctor?”

“Jesus, Chris.  It’s a good thing _one_ of us thinks about these things.  Remind me to call Joe if I ever injure myself.”

“No, seriously.”  Chris pulls away and stares.  “Why do I need a doctor?  Did you – is there something _wrong_ with me?  From last night?”  He feels panicky.  He can’t feel anything in his body that seems like it would need emergency care, which only worries him more.

“Christopher,” Zach says.  He lays a hand over Chris’s arm and pulls him down to kiss.  “You are going to the doctor to get checked over.  Just to make sure there’s nothing wrong.  That’s all.”

“Why do you keep saying that?  What’s wrong with me?”  He’s actually starting to hyperventilate now, even though the look on Zach’s face is telling him this is _not_ what he should be doing. 

“Hey,” Zach says sharply, and gives him a small shake.  “ _Nothing’s wrong_.  I just want to make sure.  Last night – I was a bit rougher than I should have been, that’s all.”

“And you called a doctor?  You were _that_ worried?”

Zach starts looking like he’s trying not to freak out as well.  “I called and made the appointment a while ago, when we decided to do this.  Just in case.  That’s all.  There’s nothing wrong, except – except I shouldn’t have bitten you like that.  I didn’t mean to break the skin.”

They stay frozen for a minute, looking at each other, gauging reactions.  Chris consciously tries to relax his muscles, breathe slower.

“Okay,” he says eventually, with a little huff of air.  “Sorry.  I don’t know what that was about.”

“It’s okay,” Zach says, but his eyes are frightened.  “It’s probably just the drop.  I’m sorry too.  I should have told you.  I didn’t think...”

“No.  It’s fine.  Thanks.  Thank you.”  _Thank you for arranging medical care for me without even asking if I might have an opinion.  Jesus, Zach._

Chris knows about the drop.  It’s never been particularly tough to deal with before, even if he eventually gets weirded out by how emotional he feels.  Usually he goes jogging to shake it off.

When Zach told him he felt the drop too, Chris didn’t really believe him.  Zach always seems composed afterwards; the only difference Chris has noticed is a slight distance sometimes, and his occasional need for time alone, after he makes sure Chris is okay.

Chris hasn’t really thought much about what might happen the next morning after something more intense.

He lies down on the bed again, but he can’t quite bring himself to move close to Zach, not immediately.  Zach, his hands tucked up under the pillow like he’s scared to touch, watches his face.

“I shouldn’t have bitten you so hard.”

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” Chris suggests.  “It’s making it hurt, having to think about it.”  He sees Zach nod out of the corner of his eye.  “What cover story are we giving the doctor?”

“No need,” Zach says. “She’s kink-friendly.  She knows me.”

“She _knows_ you?  Professionally or personally?”

“Both, I guess?  She has a private practice, and she’s a Domina, or used to be, anyway.  So she knows.  About stuff.”

Chris is quiet.  These little connections Zach has with another world sometimes make him feel left out.  Stupid.  Unable to contribute.  There’s a voice in the back of his mind, and realizes that it’s Adam.  _Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished._

“I’m sorry,” Zach says again.

“Stop apologizing.  You said you wouldn’t.  I’m a big boy, like you, and I can take it.”  Chris smiles, hoping it reaches his eyes.  “What’s the doctor like?”

Zach swallows.  “She’s kind of mean.”

  
***

  
In the bathroom, Chris unwraps the bandages slowly, willing himself not to look away.  He’s not looking forward to it, but nothing ever got any better by procrastinating.  He concentrates his gaze on his shoulder more than his torso, because at least he has a pretty good idea what a bite mark looks like.

The bite is discolored and sore-looking.  Sore- _feeling_.  But there are far fewer band-aids on his chest than he expected.  It doesn’t take long to realize that there are only five cuts, none of them very long or particularly deep; the worst maybe three inches.  Chris stares at them for a while, and at the extended, shallow _scratch_ marks all around them, over the rest of his chest and even down his stomach, that don’t require band-aids.  He reaches up slowly to touch himself, but his hand hovers over his skin, shaking.

He seizes hold of the counter instead, feeling dizzy and nauseous. 

“Are you okay?”

Zach is in the doorway, looking concerned.

“I thought,” Chris says, and it’s all he can say before something’s coming out of him.  He stumbles over to the toilet and throws up, something milky and frothy and still too sweet.  He remembers Zach making him drink hot chocolate before he fell asleep.  The incongruity makes his stomach wrench again.

Zach gets him a glass of water afterwards, but Chris won’t take it.  He looks accusingly at Zach.  “You cut me,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean you cut _more_ than this, so what the hell is this?”  He gestures at his own body like it’s something external to himself.

“Chris, I can’t – I couldn’t just _shred_ you.  You’re a fucking movie star.  People are going to notice that kind of thing.  I cut some, and I – I made you think I was cutting more.”  Zach’s tone, with the shrug he gives, implies that he was doing Chris a favor.

Chris hears a rushing noise in his ears and thinks about Adam.  _Zee likes to fuck with your mind as much as he does with your body.  So – be careful._

“Are you going to throw up again?”

“No,” Chris says, his teeth grinding down on each other.  “No, I am not going to throw up again.”  He sees Zach start to drift backwards, looking cautious.  “So, tell me.  Does the special dispensation on hitting you extend to this morning?”

Zach takes a deep breath, puts down the glass of water.  “If you need it to, okay.  Yeah.”

Chris raises his hand, and Zach takes another small step backwards, and Chris has a flash of the night before.  He did hit Zach, panicking, right before Zach told him his safe words again.  Chris feels his hand ache with the memory.

Zach looks determined to take it, but Chris grabs the door instead.  They look at each other.

“I need a shower,” Chris says, and slams the door.

He grabs on to the counter again and waits for the shaking to stop.  Hears Zach saying something quietly outside the door, as though he were leaning his head against it.

“Remember to replace the band-aids afterwards.”

 _It’s just the drop_ , Chris thinks.  _Just the drop_.

  
***

  
The doctor makes a noise behind her teeth when she sees Chris’s mouth, and again when she removes the gauze bandage over his shoulder.  She shoots a dark look at Zach.  “This is your work?”

“Yes,” Zach says.  He’s flushing a mottled red up his neck.  Chris insisted he come in with him, although Zach was extremely reticent.

“Were you trying to leave a scar?” the doctor asks, her tone neutral.

Zach shakes his head anxiously.

“Well,” she says, “you’ve been lucky.  It shouldn’t scar.  But you’ve broken the skin, which means potential infection with a bite.  You should _know_ these things.”

Zach looks agonized and drops his face into his hands.  “I _do_ ,” he mutters.  “I’m sorry.”

Chris looks at the doctor, silently pleading with her to be nicer.  Her eyes soften, just a fraction. 

But Chris is still poked and prodded and _needled_ , because he can’t remember when he last had a tetanus booster, and he thanks God she doesn’t give him an internal exam, just a quick look and touch at his asshole while his face flames red and Zach looks away, and then Zach is taken aside and given what looks like a Very Annoyed Lecture.  He overhears Zach saying, “Yes, ma’am,” a few times.

He feels for Zach, although it’s completely bizarre. 

Chris gets a prescription for antibiotics and instructions on keeping his shoulder dressing dry and changed regularly.  The doctor says little about the other cuts and marks over his body, except a brief, “These are fine.  Keep them clean.”  Maybe Zach really did do him a favor, Chris admits.

All in all, it’s one of the most surreal experiences Chris has ever had in his life.  “I _really_ don't want to see her again,” he says to Zach as they wait to get his prescription filled.

“Neither do I,” Zach groans. 

“We might have to, though.  Next time.”

“We will _never_ do something like that again.”  Zach looks highly distressed.

Chris takes a quick look around the pharmacy and threads his fingers through Zach’s.  “Yeah we will,” he says.  “And next time we’ll be better at it.  And the doctor will be nicer to you.”

Zach is shaking his head and trying to pull away, but Chris squeezes his hand.  “So what are we doing after this?” he asks.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” Zach says.

  
***

  
“It’s...yeah.  I’m not sure how it’s supposed to help?” Chris says doubtfully.  They are back in bed with a mountain of chocolate heaped on the nightstand.  Zach has worked his way through a quarter of it already.  Chris has had one bar and that’s enough for him.

“Endorphins,” Zach says around a mouthful of candy bar.  “Chocolate triggers happy feelings.  God, I feel awful.”

“Then stop eating so much chocolate,” Chris says sensibly.

“No.”

“Sleep for a while.”

“What will you do?”  Zach sounds forlorn.

“Sleep too.”

“I can’t believe I _bit_ you like that.”

“I can’t believe you won’t shut up about it.  Seriously, Quinto, put down the candy bar and sleep.”

Zach throws his arm over Chris’s chest, avoiding the cuts and bruises as best he can.  “I’m sorry,” he says.

“You said no apologies before,” Chris reminds him.  “And now you can’t stop.”  He pats Zach’s arm awkwardly.  His shoulder is aching and his mouth is still sore, but he doesn’t want to mention it.  “Stop being a drama queen.  It’s okay.  It’s better than okay.  I promise.  Just go to sleep.”

They wake several hours later.  Zach has drooled chocolatey drool on Chris’s shoulder, which he wipes off apologetically.

“Are you feeling better?” Chris asks.

“Yeah.”  Zach looks more like his usual self, less on the verge of a nervous breakdown.  “You?”

“I’m not sure.”

 _Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished._

Horrifyingly, Chris feels his eyes starting to water.  He turns over in the bed, mashes his face into the pillow.  It makes his mouth throb and his nose hurt.  Zach tries to rub his back and he physically flinches away from his hand.

“Don’t _touch_ me,” he says, and he doesn’t even know if Zach can hear him properly, but the hand is removed immediately.  Chris struggles to hold on to the tears.  _You don’t fucking cry, Pine_ , he tells himself.  _You do not fucking cry_.

After a few minutes he rolls back, gingerly pulling the sheets over his shoulder.  “I’m sorry,” he says to Zach.  “I just didn’t feel great for a second.”

“It’s okay,” Zach says, but Chris can see he’s upset.  “It’s just the drop.”  He says it like he’s only trying to convince Chris.  He’s an excellent actor.

“I smell like a _hospital_ ,” Chris says miserably.

“Would you like to take a bath?”

“Yeah.”  It’s the best idea he’s heard all day.

Chris unwinds the gauze from his chest and picks off band-aids, while Zach runs him a bath with stuff in it, which he says will help him relax.  It’s fine by Chris, because he’d rather smell like sandalwood than latex and antiseptic.  He slides in gratefully, careful not to get his shoulder dressing wet.  “Where are you going?” he asks, as Zach makes his way to the door.

“You – you want me to stay?” Zach asks awkwardly.  Chris nods.  “Okay.”  Zach throws some towels down and kneels on the floor.  He crosses his arms on the side of the bath and looks at Chris.  “This part tends to suck,” he says.

“Why is it _like_ this?  It’s never been this bad before.”

“We’ve never done something like that before.  And you were really far gone last night,” Zach shrugs.  His eyes look far away, like he’s remembering something.

Chris splashes his face with the water, his lip stinging.  “Did I say anything?  Poetry things?”

“No.”  Zach trails his fingers in the water.  Finally, he adds, “I don’t think you could.  You were past that.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Chris asks.  Zach looks like he doesn’t want to answer the question, so Chris adds pre-emptively, “Honesty Policy.”

“Yes.”

“A lot?”

“More than a lot.  Not so much now, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  We don’t ever have to do anything like that again.”

“No,” Chris says.  “That’s not what I mean.”  They look at each other, sadly.  He pulls Zach’s arm towards him, rolls up his sleeve.  “Wash me?” he asks.  Puts a cloth in Zach’s hand and settles back against the cool ceramic.

Zach is tentative at first, but it feels good.  The hospital smell goes away and Chris finds the horrible tight feeling in his chest relaxing.  “It was intense,” he says after a while.

“Yes,” Zach says fervently.  “Can you sit up?  I’ll do your back.”

Chris bends forward, his arms wrapped around his knees.  He hears Zach’s sharp intake of breath and asks, “What?”

“Your back.  It’s all...bruised.”  He’s extra gentle with the washcloth, but Chris thinks it probably looks worse than it feels.

The repetitive, soothing warmth on his back is almost hypnotic.  So is Zach’s breathing, which has increased in frequency.

“I think I need to sleep again,” Chris says after a while.  Zach helps him out of the bath and dries him carefully, pretending to be clinical about it.  Chris tactfully ignores his erection. 

Zach wants to put Neosporin on the cuts and scratches and something on his back too, but Chris refuses vociferously.  Zach gives in, but insists on more band-aids and bandages.  He dresses Chris in flannel pajamas, and Chris feels like he’s about five years old, but he’s not complaining.

He’s on the verge of tears again before sleep overcomes him.

  
***

  
The next time he wakes up, Zach isn’t there, and it’s dark outside.

 _Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished._

Chris sits bolt upright, ignoring the pains, and calls him.  Again, louder, and there he is, appearing in the doorway.

“What are you _doing_?” Chris spits.

“Watching TV,” Zach says, sounding breathless.  “I couldn't sleep.  I didn’t want to wake you up.”  He comes over to the bed and sits next to Chris, but doesn’t make a move towards him.  Chris looks at him, and his vision blurs.

He gropes towards Zach, who immediately hugs him.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Zach says, his voice tight.  “I didn’t know if you wanted me to touch you.”  His hands are pulling too much across Chris’s back, making it ache, but Chris just hugs harder in return.

“Yes,” he says.  “Yes.”  He pulls Zach down on the bed with him.

 _Don’t start thinking there’s anything special there._

“What’s going on in there?” Zach asks, kissing his forehead after he’s rearranged them to a more comfortable position.  _Just because he kisses it all better when he’s finished._

Chris is shivering, pulling Zach’s arms and legs over him, ignoring all the pains. 

“You said you thought you loved me,” Chris says before he can stop himself, and his tone is anguished even to his own ears.  He’s shaking as though he’s freezing.  Zach pulls the blanket around him, tight as a burrito.

“Yeah,” Zach breathes.  “Yeah.  I do.”

“No.  You said you _thought_ you did.”

“I _do_.  Jesus Christ.  I don’t have to think about it.”

“Adam said – I can’t stop thinking about it.  I can’t get it out of my head.  I feel like I’m going fucking _crazy_.”

“What did he say?”  Chris feels his heart breaking at the tone in Zach’s voice.  “Tell me.  What?”

Chris can barely whisper it, and Zach has to put his ear close to his mouth.  Chris says it again.  He can feel Zach’s whole body go rigid.

His fingers dig into Chris’s back, making him gasp at the hurt, but at least it’s real, at least it’s not that voice in his head.  “Don’t you ever think that about me, about us, about this.  _Please_.”  Zach sounds like he wants to murder someone, until his voice cracks on the last word.

“Tell me,” Chris begs.

“I love you.  I love you.”  Zach kisses him all over his face, telling him in between kisses like a benediction.

But after a while, Chris feels him tense up slowly as he thinks things over.  Zach asks, “Why didn’t you tell me before, when I asked if there was anything I should know?  Before all this?  Why the fuck didn’t you _tell_ me you were thinking about Adam?”

“Because I – I didn’t want to hurt you.  Because I love you.”

  
***

  
On the second day, Zach brings Chris breakfast in bed as though he’s an invalid.  He eats the toast carefully, trying to avoid the side of his mouth with the cut.  Zach’s face looks better, and so does Chris’s chest.  The bite is still clean and healing up, but it itches.  Zach slaps his hand away when he absent-mindedly tries to scratch.

“What are we doing today?  No doctors, right?”

“No way.”  Zach’s eyes go big.  “Today we can do nice stuff.  Like read.  Do crosswords.  Watch television.”

“Did you suddenly turn eighty while I was asleep?”

“No.  I _did_ spend a couple of hours regurgitating chocolate while you were asleep.”

“Yeah, you kind of went to town there,” Chris nods.

“Look, I’m sorry I –”

“Don’t,” Chris says immediately.  “Don’t apologize for anything.  _I’m_ sorry I freaked out yesterday.  And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what you needed to know, before.  I won’t do that again.  Next time, I'll tell you everything.”

Zach looks very unconvinced, but just nods.  Chris watches him when he’s not looking, thinking about the difference between this Zach and – the other Zach.

He forks desultorily through his eggs. 

“Would you prefer something else?” Zach asks politely.  Chris shrugs, winces at the pain in his shoulder.

“Where did you leave Harold and Noah?”

“With Joe.”

“Oh.”  Chris raises a forkful of food and chews it, trying to look enthusiastic about eating.  “Can they – can they come back today?”

Zach says, “Um.  I guess.”

“I’d like that.”

“It means Joe would see…” Zach trails off, and Chris ignores him.  “Okay.  I’ll call him.”

  
***

  
Joe comes over mid-morning, on the way to a shoot, and looks horrified at the sight of them.  “Jesus _Christ_ , guys,” he says.  “What the fuck?”

“It’s not like that,” Zach sighs, rubbing his face gingerly.

Joe looks at Chris. 

“It’s really not,” Chris agrees.

Joe rearranges his facial expression.  “As long as you hugged it out after,” he says.  “Looks like you came off worse, Zach.  Nice work, Pine.”

Chris grins; he can’t help himself.  Zach scowls, but he’s too busy petting Noah to retaliate.  Joe lets Harold out of his carry cage and the cat runs to his favorite window.  Joe doesn’t hang around long, sending out _I really don’t want to know_ vibes while he’s there, and all the way down the stairs after himself when he leaves.

Chris watches Zach play with Noah, who can barely control his joy at being home again.  Watches Zach’s hands, ruffling fur and tumbling the dog around until he’s barking in excitement.  Watches Zach’s face, lit up with laughter.

Chris breathes out, feels his lungs relaxing, and his muscles.  He lies down on the couch, his hands under his head.  Harold chooses this time to allow some human contact, and jumps onto his chest.  Chris can’t stop his yelp, even as he clutches Harold closer.

“Harold!” Zach snaps.  “Off!”

“No, it’s fine.  Hi, little guy,” Chris says to the cat, stroking him.  “Welcome home.”

“He - he _hurt_ you.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Chris says softly.

Zach looks down, scratches a chocolate stain off his jeans.  “And what if he _did_ mean it?” he asks slowly, gently threading his other hand through Noah’s fur.  "What then?"

Chris smiles.  “That would be fine, too.  It’s just in his nature.”

When Zach looks back up with an expression of hope, Chris feels his heart jump.  “What did I tell you?” he asks Zach.

“I don’t know, what did you tell me?”

“That I love you, you moron.”

Zach laughs in surprise, blinks bright eyes, and rubs at them with the heel of his hand.  After a second, he asks, “And did you steal that line from a Shakespearean sonnet?”

“Ignoramus.  It’s Walt Whitman.”

“I could actually believe that,” Zach says.  His eyes are still too bright.  He pats Noah’s side, pulls him close.  “I love you, too, Christopher.”

  
***

  
The third day is better. 

Chris wakes very early.  He feels like he’s been asleep for days.  Zach is next to him, awake even before he is, and watching his face in the early light.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.”  Chris stretches; winces.  The shoulder still hurts.  “My mouth tastes like ass.”

Zach smiles at that.  “An unfortunate but common side effect of sex with one’s fellow man,” he says.

Chris smiles, but his lips feel cracked.  “Maybe, but we haven’t–”

“You need to drink water, and take your antibiotics,” Zach interrupts.

“I need to piss.”

Zach laughs.  “And then water and pills.”

“Teeth too,” Chris says.  “They’re furry.”

“Jesus, _okay_.  Do all that.  Then water and pills.  Go.”

Chris still feels achy all over, but more like after Zach has dragged him to yoga than like he’s been beaten in a dark alley the night before.  He strips off the pajamas and inspects his body in the mirror while he brushes his teeth.  His back is flooded with unpleasant colors – violet, yellow, brown, blue, purple.  His chest looks a lot better.  But he enjoys looking at the marks.  _You sick bastard_ , he tells himself, chuckling.

The whole time, he replays Zach’s words.  _I love you.  I love you_.

He runs back into the bedroom, jumps through the air and lands heavily on the bed, and Zach’s middle. 

“Fuuuck,” Zach groans.  “What the –”

“Dog pile!  I love you,” he grins into Zach’s face.

“And you show that by hurting me?” Zach asks, pained.  “That’s not normal behavior.”

“Shut up and kiss me, you fucking sadist.” 

“You don’t taste like ass anymore,” Zach compliments him afterwards.

“Thank you.”  Chris rolls to the side but leaves his hand caught up in both of Zach’s, over his heart.  “I feel like I could go _hiking_ or something.  Wanna go for a run?  To the gym?  Or even yoga if you like.”  He scrunches his nose.

“No, nothing strenuous.  Not yet.  Give yourself time, you’re getting too high again.”

Chris is about to contrarily say, _No I’m not_ , but he thinks of the past couple of days.  “Okay, Grand Master Zachary.  I’ll take your advice.”

“Good.  Now take your fucking pills.”

Chris complies, grumbling.

“We could take Noah for a walk,” Zach offers.  “As long as there are no photographers around.”

They end up taking the chance, and go out with sunglasses, hats pulled down low, scarves pulled up high.  Chris feels ridiculous, but at least Zach looks the same as he does.  They don’t see any paparazzi, but that’s no guarantee of anything.  Chris wants to buy coffee.

“You want a cookie thing?” he asks Zach, who waits outside with Noah.

Zach makes a moue of distaste.  “Frankly, I don’t think I want to eat anything with chocolate in it ever again.”

Chris laughs at that, his first real, free, full body laugh in days.  “Okay, my Icy Bear,” he says, clapping Zach’s shoulder.  “Soy latte only.” 

  
***

  
At home, they play _Rock Band_ , and Chris beats Zach’s score on the lead guitar for the first time ever.

“You _let_ me,” he says, annoyed.

“I figured you needed the lift,” Zach grins.

Chris puts the Wii guitar down.  “Enough of this,” he says.  “Come and fuck me.”  Zach frowns and opens his mouth to say something.  “No,” Chris says.  “I don’t want to hear all the reasons why not.  Come to bed and fuck me and show me that you love me.”  He gives Zach his best leading man smile, and is pleased to see the immediate effect on Zach’s crotch.

Noah follows them to the door, but loses interest as soon as he sees Chris taking off his clothes.  Chris still has bandages over his chest, and almost takes them off, but he sees Zach staring at them and decides to leave them on.  An experiment.  He pulls off the rest of his clothes while Zach watches.

“What would you like?” he asks Zach when he’s naked apart from the white gauze wrapped around his chest.  Zach gives a faint shake of his head, as though he’s discarding possibilities.  “Come on,” Chris says, walking up to him.  He grabs Zach’s hand, holds it up to the bandages, smiles.  “It still stings.”  He presses Zach’s fingers, under his own, into the deepest cut, hissing a little at the pain.  “You did that,” he whispers.

Zach swallows, and Chris hears his breath start to come quicker.  Feels his own heartbeat picks up in response.  When he baits Zach like this, he wonders if he really knows what he’s doing.  Proverbial red flag at a bull?  Dropping blood in shark-infested waters?  The thought of blood makes him shiver, but not in a bad way.  Not today.

“I should tell you,” Zach says, and then clears his throat.  “The doctor told me that if I don’t want to scar you, and I can’t control myself, I shouldn’t bite you anymore.”

Chris feels his mouth drop open.  “What?  No.”

“Well, yeah.  She did.”

“I don’t care what she said.”

“Christopher–”

“ _No_ ,” he says emphatically.  He kisses Zach hard and then says, “I know you can control yourself.  You always have before.  And I don’t give a fuck about scars.”

Zach looks like he’s trying to suppress a smile.  “I’m touched by your faith in me, Christopher, but–”

“No.  It’s not negotiable.  I mean it.  It’s a hard limit.”

Zach quirks his mouth.  “Yeah.  Well.  Okay.  I don’t want to stop either.  I’ll just – try to keep it safe.  I _don’t_ want to scar you.”

“Whatever.”  Zach hasn’t moved his hand, even though Chris has, to pull him closer, and Zach is gently rubbing his fingers over the bandages.  “Tell me what it was like for you,” Chris asks.  “The other night.”

Zach pulls him even closer with his other hand and starts pressing his fingers into the gauze, watching Chris’s face.  “Does that hurt?”

“Not really.”  Zach pushes harder.  “Yes,” Chris gasps.

“You were so afraid,” Zach tells him.  “ _So_ afraid I thought you were going to piss yourself at one point.”  Chris flushes, feels Zach kneading into the cuts as though he knows exactly where they are, but not too hard to open them again.  He watches Zach’s eyes, wondering if he’ll see a change, see that other Zach. 

Zach leans into him and Chris raises his mouth for a kiss, but Zach bypasses to his ear with a smile.  “But even though you were afraid, you were very brave,” he whispers.  “It made it even better for me, when you insisted you weren’t scared.  Your heart was racing like a hunted fox.  And then when I _cut_ you –”

Chris hears himself make a noise, and it seems to galvanize Zach to action.  He’s pushed backwards, onto the bed, Zach climbing over him.  “You couldn’t believe it,” Zach says roughly, pushing up against Chris so hard that he whines in pain.  “So beautiful, watching your shock.  You should have seen your eyes, I’ve never seen them so blue.  And when you started crying, I nearly lost it, Christopher.  I nearly lost it.  Right.  There.”  He lowers his head, starts biting gentle marks across Chris’s shoulder, the one without the dressing.

Chris wraps his arms around him, panting.  “You like it when I cry.”

“I love it.”

“More than biting?”

“That’s like choosing between watching you come, or coming myself.  Inside you.  All hot and tight and twitching around my dick.”

“Oh, God,” Chris says, shoving his hips up into Zach.  “Please fuck me.”

“How very polite of you, Christopher.”  Zach manages to reach for the nightstand, and Chris knows he’s going for the lube.  Somehow Zach is still holding him in place as he slicks up his fingers and slides them into Chris’s ass.  “Tell me what you felt,” he whispers.

“I was scared.  I was scared of you.  I’ve never seen you like that.”  Zach twists his fingers, and Chris grabs at his shoulders.  “ _Zach_ , come on.  You’re going to make me –”

“No I’m not,” Zach says into his mouth.  “Not before I fuck you, anyway.  Tell me again.”  He twists again, brushes his thumb gently over Chris’s balls, judging how tight they are.

“I was scared.  Of you.  Please –”

“Again.”  He adds another finger, watching Chris’s face.  Chris can see a red flush spreading across Zach’s cheeks, see his eyes glazing over a little, but he's still Zach, not _other_ Zach.

“I was _terrified_ ,” Chris pants, trying to fuck himself on Zach’s fingers.

“Again.”  Zach withdraws slightly, smiling as Chris tries to follow his fingers.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my whole fucking life, now please would you fuck me, Jesus _Christ_ , Zach!  _Please_!”

Zach relents, rolls him over on the bed.  Chris hears him unzipping his jeans, pushing them down but not all the way.  Zach shoves in hard, making him cry out; slides his hand between the bed and Chris’s chest, pressing into the cuts.  Chris feels teeth on the back of his neck and babbles _thank you, thank you_ , over and over.  He comes quickly, without a hand touching his cock at all, and it might be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so goddamn good.

Zach doesn’t try to last much longer.  He bites, firmly but not too hard, and shoots at the sound of Chris’s painful yelp.

Afterwards, Zach insists on taking off the bandage to check, but it all looks the same, just a bit pinker where Zach prodded.  No fresh bleeding.  Zach looks at Chris.

“We don’t have to, though,” he says, like he’s been having a whole conversation with Chris in his head.  “We don’t have to do this stuff.  I’d rather have you.  Than that.”

“That’s…nice of you to say,” Chris replies.  “But you don’t have to choose.  Also, are you fucking delusional?  You _need_ this stuff.”  Zach looks like he wants to disagree, but can’t.

Chris kisses him, licks at the inside of his mouth until Zach relaxes.  “It’s not one or the other,” he says between kisses.  “You can have both.  There’s more between us than _just_ this –” He pulls Zach’s hand to his chest again.  “But this is good too, and I want it.”

“I think you must be totally insane,” Zach says.  “I mean, really.  Sometimes I watch you when you’re sleeping and wonder if you’re actually _crazy_.”

“Okay.  I’m crazy.  You’re _creepy_.  You watch me when I’m sleeping?  What's up with that?”  Chris is laughing.

“Why would you want this?” Zach asks.

“Because I love it.  Because I love you.”

“Why would you love _me_?”  Zach turns his head away before Chris can see his expression. 

“Zach,” Chris says.  “It’s okay.  It’s just the drop.”

“I don’t know,” Zach says.  “I don’t know if it is.  What kind of monster gets off on making his boyfriend _terrified_ of him?”  He puts a hand over his eyes.  “What the fuck is _wrong_ with me?”

Chris has never seen Zach so unsure of himself.  He pulls Zach into his arms and tightly wraps the blanket around them.  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he says.  “I love you and there’s nothing wrong with you.”  He holds Zach fast against him.

After a while, Zach tries to move away, but Chris feels something wet against his skin.  “Are you _crying_?” he asks, astonished.  He tightens his arms, keeping Zach there.

“No, Christopher.  I don’t cry.”

“Oh.” Chris thinks about that, not sure if Zach is teasing him.  “Okay.  We can not-cry together.”

Zach is quiet for a long time, but then he says, “Okay,” and wraps his arms back around Chris.

  
***

  
On the fourth day, Chris shaves, and instantly feels more like himself again.

Zach has recovered his self-composure and his sense of humor, and they’ve spent the morning in bed, fucking every time one of them manages to get it up again.  They dial a pizza for lunch, manage to make it through to the kitchen table to eat.  Chris’s mouth is a lot better now and he eats more than his share of the pizza, but Zach doesn’t call him on it.

They both look better, Chris thinks.  Zach looks less pale, and his face is healing up okay.  No scars, Zach has assured him, although Chris is dubious about how he can really know.  Chris, unfairly, has a healthy glow; he looks like a movie star again and he fucking knows it.  He knows it every time Zach looks at him.

“So I wanna see it again,” Chris says, dropping a crust back on his plate.

“You’ve been seeing it all morning,” Zach smirks.

“Not your cock.  _Jesus_.”  Chris gives a snort of laughter.  “The knife.”

Zach wipes non-existent sauce off his mouth with the back of his hand, like he’s pretending not to hear him.

“Well?” Chris asks.

Zach looks at him.  “Well,” he says finally.  “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Then why are you being all weird?”

“I just had to think about it for a second.”  Zach takes a long drink of water.  “Alright.  Out here?”

Chris shakes his head.  “No.  Back in there.”

Zach pulls him by the hand back to the bedroom, wrinkling his nose a little.  “Okay, we really _do_ need to change the sheets,” he says.

“Afterwards,” Chris says, poking him.  “Show me.”  He’s expecting it to be in a drawer somewhere, but Zach goes to the bed and starts pulling at the mattress, feeling around underneath it.  He turns back to Chris, opens his hand.

Chris walks over slowly, his eyes fixed on the knife lying in Zach’s palm.  He hasn’t noticed, but he’s been holding his breath, and he lets it out slowly as he reaches out to touch it.  He glances up to Zach’s face, and sees Zach looking at him curiously, judging his reaction.

“Why are you keeping it under the bed?” Chris blurts out.

“I don’t know.  It just seemed right.”

“All your other stuff is in the guest bedroom.”

“This is different to all the other stuff.”

Chris nods, picks up the knife.  It’s not scary, not now.  When he flicks it open, the blade practically sparkles; Zach has painstakingly cleaned off the blood.

“Did I go too far?” Zach asks suddenly.  “A couple of times I almost stopped, but I didn’t.  Maybe I should have.”

“No.  You didn’t go too far, I promise.  Although.  I wish you’d told me about the doctor, before booking it.”

“I’m sorry about that.”  Zach shifts uneasily.  “I…thought it might scare you off,” he admits.

Chris stares at him, feels hysterical laughter bubbling up his throat, but he swallows it down, because Zach looks raw and sensitive.  “Zachary, I am not going to scare off that easily.  I promise.  But – I’m an adult.  I like it that you want to be careful and take care of me, I do.  But I’m not stupid, just not as experienced as you are.  I’d like to be at least _asked_ about that kind of stuff, you know?”

Zach nods.  “Okay.”

Chris’s phone buzzes on the nightstand, and he closes the knife and places it back into Zach’s hand.  “Keep it under the bed,” he smiles.  “You were right.  It’s a good place for it.”

“Alright.  But we need to change the sheets, first,” Zach insists.  “Who texted you?”

“It’s my mom.”  Chris re-reads the message a couple of times, starts laughing.  “Huh.  Looks like I’ll have my revenge,” he says to Zach.

“What do you mean?”  Zach is already pulling at the sheets.

“She’s insisting you come to a family lunch next weekend.  _No_ excuses.  She wants to re-meet you officially as The Boyfriend.”

Zach stops mid-tug at a pillowcase.  “Oh,” he says, looking worried.  “Um.  I haven’t really done the ‘meet the parents’ thing before.”

“I know.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

“They already like you.”

“This is different!”

Chris laughs.  “Scared?”

Zach looks at him.  “I am fucking terrified,” he says slowly.

“I’m really starting to see the appeal in fear,” Chris grins.


End file.
